


A Heart That Feels Like Running

by floortje



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Gen, endless suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floortje/pseuds/floortje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re silently hoping that the next bullet is for you, making an end to the misery you can’t seem to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heart That Feels Like Running

**Suicide in the Trenches**

I knew a simple soldier boy  
Who grinned at life in empty joy,  
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,  
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,  
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,  
He put a bullet through his brain.  
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye  
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,  
Sneak home and pray you'll never know  
The hell where youth and laughter go.

**S. Sassoon**

 

"

 

Your whole body is wound tight from the stress, You feel like you can burst open at any moment now, throw you head in your neck and scream for an eternity. You’re raging on the inside, the only clear moments in your existents is when you slide your mortars in place or pull the trigger of your gun. But in down time, when there are no Japs for you to kill and your sullenly waiting for the inevitable order to move out, all you want to do is cry out in frustration.

The foul smell of bodies, bodies that haven’t showered for god knows how long, combined with the stench of decomposing carcasses and human waste, is nauseating. You’re so dirty that your whole body itches with it. You don’t know when the last time was you changed into dry and clean socks; You can’t even remember when you last brushed your teeth.

You wonder why you voluntarily signed up for this in the first place. Why did you wanted to play the god damn hero, why did you wanted to fight and protect your country that is safely more than thousands of miles away from the shithole your sitting in.  

You’re this close from pulling out your hair, stamp your feet and throw a childish tantrum over the injustice of it all.

And while you’re digging a foxhole in the pouring rain, trying fruitlessly to keep the mud from sliding back down, you’re silently hoping that the next bullet is for you, making an end to the misery you can’t seem to escape.

You hope it’ll be quick and clean.

Snafu doesn’t look like he’s suffering as much as you do, he seems unfazed by the day-to-day hardship you’re experiencing. You know it’s unfair to do so, but you resent him a little for that. You know you could only hope to be as stoic as Snafu is one day, to not have that constant knot of dread in your stomach; To not care.

You also resent the fact that you’re digging a foxhole in the rain while your whole body hurts. There’s water creeping down your neck and blisters forming on the palms of your already ruined hands. Snafu is taking shelter underneath a tarp, huddle close to a few other marines, and it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, and your shoulders alone.

You finally snap when Snafu, yet again, gives an insightful comment about the need of more troops; You start to scream at Snafu, who screams back. Next thing you know, Hamm is dead and Peck is gone. You stare daggers at Snafu, even though he, for once, looks as troubled as you feel.

At night, Snafu presses close to you. You don’t say anything, You’re sick and tired of this whole mess and you don’t care about anything but your own sorrows. Somehow Snafu managed to wiggle his hand through the layers of slippery poncho’s to take your hand. He strokes your knuckles with a harsh thumb and gives your hand a little reassuring squeeze, in return you grip his hand like a vice. And when Snafu drops his head onto your shoulder you silently start to cry.

The next morning, Snafu acts like nothing has happened. And you’re doing your best to follow his lead.

You honestly try your hardest not to think; You try to have a more positive outlook on the whole situation, but it can’t be helped, you’re too far gone. You think about it when your dragging your feet through the mud, on your way to the next hell hole where you could potentially die. You think about it when you’re sitting on your helmet, trying to keep your dungarees as dry as possible, while eating K-rations that taste like ash in your mouth. You think about it when you stare out into the distance, seeing nothing but seeing everything. And when Snafu holds your hand at night, pressing his wet lips against your neck while you try not to cry, it seems impossible not to think about it.

But war doesn’t take your pathetic internal monologue into consideration; That you’ve had enough doesn’t mean that they have. Life goes on and there are enough Japanese soldiers and US marines to go around.

You try to recall a time where death was still something shocking; A time where you’d look up and you wouldn’t be greeted by the sight of a maggot infested corps, unseeing eyes looking directly at you, a time where using death bodies as landmarks was unheard of.

All those dead and dying young, brave boys, their life cut short before it could even really begin.

It’s a small miracle that you haven’t cracked and put a bullet between your own eyes yet.

It feels like a misfortune.

And just as you think that life can’t possibly get any more depressing, it takes a turn for the worse; Women and children are getting blown up right in front of you, there are crying babies you stare at in horror and your rifle muzzle is being pressed against old, innocent foreheads.

Then the bomb drops, once, twice, and then the Japanese Empire surrenders.  

When you get the news you try to feel glad that you’re going home, that you’ll be sleeping in a your own bed after a nice dinner being clean, dry and comfortable and most important of all, save.

But you’re not feeling it.

And now your sitting alone in the train, it’s already dark and Snafu didn’t even wake you when he left. You feel betrayed, as if you haven’t gone through hell and back with him, as if there was no connection at all.  

You don’t know what to do with yourself now; You let yourself secretly wish that it’s all just a homesick dream, that Snafu will wake you up at any moment for your turn to keep watch. That the war is still going full force and you know what is expected from you.

But it’s not the truth, you get off the train and you come back home. Embrace your mother. Embrace your father. You act like you’re happy to be home, trying your best not to suffocate in the feeling that you don’t belong here.

You never even thought you’d survive the beach landing on Peleliu after all; You’re supposed to be dead and buried.

At night you’re being tortured by nightmare after nightmare in your dry and comfortable bed. You don’t feel any better than you did on Peleliu or Okinawa, possible even worse. ‘Is this what I get for fighting for my country?’ you wonder to yourself bitterly.

Your parents try their best to understand, you’re just reluctant to let them, wary for them to know what an utter misery their son endured.

Your brother says it will get better, Sid says that too. You just feel weak and pathetic for being unable to move on.

You just wish there was someone who would truly understands, someone who could comfort you after a particularly vivid dream, someone who is willing to hold your hand while you cry.

You would like to have someone who doesn’t leave you sleeping on a train without saying goodbye.

You know it will happen eventually, but until then, you’re comfortable with doing nothing but sip iced tea underneath a tree. You’ve done enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I rewrote this a million times, I wanted to do something completly different with the story but I couldn't find the right words,  
> so I'm going to leave it like this. 
> 
> I apologize for any grammer or punctuation mistakes i've made.
> 
> tumblr


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